


Lek-than Manners

by kettish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: Prompt: "Oh boy, so many ideas. I loved most that you wrote sub!qui because it shows up so rarely. What I'd really like is a scenario where Qui-Gon suddenly has to play a subserviant role (like for a mission, something about him makes the locals think he belongs to Obi-Wan or something). And Qui-Gon is just massively shocked by how much of a turn on it is."





	Lek-than Manners

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks for quick and gracious beta by hobbitystmarymorstan!

It had been a long ten, Qui-Gon thought as he tried to remember not to grind his teeth. His master had long ago drilled that habit out of him, but he’d seen a recurrence of it after Obi-Wan had hit puberty. Qui-Gon did his best to be mindful of it, as his jaw clenching would be a dead giveaway to his current state of mind: irritated. More irritated than he could remember being in recent history.

 

Not even dealing with Obi-Wan’s temper had been this bad, he groused. At least that Qui-Gon understood and empathized with; through their training bond, Qui-Gon had been able to track the hormonal upswells of emotion that threatened to disrupt Obi-Wan’s usual good nature. Every Padawan he’d ever trained had gone through the same trial, and Qui-Gon wasn’t so old that he couldn’t remember how unreasonable he was as a teen, much less how it frustrated him more than anyone else.

 

“Senator Klae, I must urge you again: your aide’s proposal is sound, and makes far more sense than the one currently on the floor,” Qui-Gon tried once again. He tactfully didn’t remind the Senator how ridiculous the current proposal was--or that the Senator had authored it. Senator Klae hailed from a particularly boisterous and obstinate culture, and was a fine example of the bluster that his people had made into an art.

 

“He’s a child,” the politician said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand towards the poor young man who had offered his idea to them during a meeting. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been delighted with the thoughtful proposal that have been handed to them nearly complete. Senator Klae was less enthused.

 

“Younger generations often have just as much wisdom to offer as our own,” Qui-Gon said. They’d been talking in circles for nearly an hour now and his patience was at an end, but tomorrow was the last day to amend this bill or it would be rotated to the bottom of the docket, from where it would take months to work its way back up to the floor. 

 

“I said no, Jedi Jinn,” Senator Klae snapped. “If you’ve so much faith in untested whelps, let your student take over for you for the day! We’ll see how much gets done when he stammers mid-speech or loses his notes!”

 

That was it. Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan fractionally shaking his head, trying to get his attention and distract him, but Qui-Gon would not be swayed. He stared down the senator, put a polite smile on his face, and made a huge mistake.

 

“Very well,” Qui-Gon agreed. Obi-Wan maintained his decorous attitude outwardly, but through the Force, Qui-Gon very clearly felt his aggravated mental groan. The senator laughed, thinking Qui-Gon must be joking, and then laughed harder when it became clear that Qui-Gon was not.

 

“Oh, stars, yes please!” Klae gasped, hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “Oh, Aden, hand me a kerchief would you? I can’t go out there such a mess.”

 

“On one condition,” Qui-Gon clarified, and Senator Klae finally straightened up, puffing and chortling.

 

“Of course there’s a condition,” he chuckled, “you’re a Jedi, you wouldn’t piss on someone burning to death without gain.” Qui-Gon couldn’t catch himself before clenching his jaw at that jab, but forced himself to relax and took a calming breath.

 

“If Obi-Wan can navigate the day without major error, you will use your aide’s proposal instead of your own,” Qui-Gon said, “with his name attached as an author. It’s an excellent piece of writing, and he deserves his due.”

 

Senator Klae blew a raspberry at Qui-Gon. “Easy. I don’t usually take sucker bets, but I wouldn’t mind seeing either of you taken down a peg. Let my fellow legislators see that Jedi are beings same as anyone else!”

 

“We are human,” Qui-Gon said serenely, “with all the faults and advantages thereof. A few more or less perhaps, depending on subspecies.”

 

“Fine,” Klae said, and clapped a hand on Qui-Gon’s arm as he passed. “But it’d better be all day, mind! Anything less and there’s no deal.”

 

The politician was out the door with his apologetic aide trailing behind him before Obi-Wan spoke. 

 

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, voice low with warning. Qui-Gon suppressed the urge to flinch, reminding himself that he was the Master and Obi-Wan the apprentice. It was currently of no matter that they were lovers, as this was work. 

 

_ Keep telling yourself that, Jinn, and maybe you’ll believe it, _ he thought with a sigh.  _ It’s very good he’s to go to his trials next month; any earlier in his training, this relationship might have ruined us both. _

 

“What have you done, Master!” Obi-Wan hissed, and Qui-Gon sighed internally yet again.

 

“You will be fine,” Qui-Gon said firmly. “We are doing nothing more than political errands today, lobbying for support for the Temple.”

 

“And the feast this evening with the Lek-than delegation,” Obi-Wan said. 

 

“Of course, the fea--the Lek-than delegation?”

 

“Surely you wouldn’t forget such an event,” Obi-Wan said. “Surely you wouldn’t waste the months of preparation we put into perfecting our Lek-than court manners, Master.”

 

Qui-Gon stared over Obi-Wan’s head.

 

“The lead diplomat takes the dominant role?” Obi-Wan continued, “Do you recall? And those under them are expected to assist in all things? Master? Surely you wouldn’t forget that--”

 

“Very well, I forgot!” Qui-Gon barked. “It will be fine, Padawan. I have endured worse.”

 

“Endured, he says,” Obi-Wan muttered, turning to the door. “It was an honor when I had to do it, but he will endure.” Qui-Gon did not wince, but it was a close thing. Instead he followed after Obi-Wan as they headed to the temporary office Jedi were allowed to use so that they could trade notes for the day.

  
  


Stepping back for the day to allow Obi-Wan to handle things was actually rather relaxing for Qui-Gon. There were a few minor incidences where Qui-Gon would have said something different or had experience that would have been helpful, but Obi-Wan did honorably.As Qui-Gon had said, all they had to do for the day was deliver a few missives and tactfully mention to some politicians that the Temple was in need of funds. Instead, Qui-Gon trailed after Obi-Wan, stacks of ‘plast in his hands, and took notes where appropriate. He even fetched a cup of tea for a senator once, which was endlessly amusing; it had been a long time since he was relegated to hospitality duties.

 

The real issue was the Lek-than feast this evening. Qui-Gon pondered it as they walked down yet another crowded hallway, headed for one of their last appointments for the day. Obi-Wan hadn’t been wrong. The younger man had been practicing the nuances of expected submissive behavior in the privacy of his own room for the last two months. After he’d felt confident, he’d demonstrated for Qui-Gon, who had watched carefully--any mistakes or breaks in decorum would necessitate immediate correction, and the Lek-than expected it to be physical. As neither of them wanted Qui-Gon to have to hurt Obi-Wan, they had worked at it until they were both sure he had it right.

 

Qui-Gon would simply have to hope he’d observed enough of Obi-Wan’s behavior to absorb it and do his best. He pressed his lips together into a line, thinking it was a poor effort compared to Obi-Wan’s. There was little to be done about it now.

 

After they’d wrapped up the last of their diplomatic errands, they took the public transport back to the Temple to ready for their evening. The first difficulty was immediately apparent as they both stared down at the traditional garments Obi-Wan had been slated to wear.

 

“There’s no way,” Obi-Wan finally said, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t think it could be let out enough for your chest. Or thighs. Or anything.” Qui-Gon frowned at the collection of leather straps and rivets and the...disconcertingly short pair of shorts. When worn, the leather straps came up over the shoulders like suspenders, but then connected to a center strap above and below the breast before continuing down to snap to the shorts. They effectively framed his pectoral muscles and were honestly quite appealing, though Qui-Gon had kept that thought to himself.

 

But Obi-Wan was correct; Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were built on slightly different scales, and Qui-Gon was just big enough that the straps couldn’t be adjusted. The shorts were stretchy, and would probably fit, though Qui-Gon couldn’t say if he’d have feeling in his balls by the end of the night. He picked them up with thumb and forefinger, looking at them and trying to decide if it was worth it.

 

“You’d rip them,” Obi-Wan sighed. “The seams are intentionally weak, so they can be torn off if the dominant partner wishes.” Qui-Gon dropped them instantly, a blank look on his face as he tried to comprehend that sentence. 

 

“I’ll go look through the cultural guide they provided,” Obi-Wan decided, “you go get those charcoal grey leather pants of mine out and find a shirt that will match; you’re more familiar with the dominant’s required accoutrement.”

 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon answered automatically, and stepped over to the closet as Obi-Wan ran out to the living room to grab his datapad and thumb it on to the given information. The leather pants were hung carefully in the closet where Obi-Wan usually kept them; Qui-Gon had needed to fetch them before a few times, when they had been assigned undercover work and Obi-Wan was frantically finishing up classwork so they could depart on time. There was a plain white undershirt that was new and still crisp, and a black leather vest that Qui-Gon hadn’t known Obi-Wan owned. Qui-Gon thought they’d do admirably, along with the pair of tall black boots he found in the bottom of the closet.

 

“That man has a leather fetish,” Qui-Gon muttered low enough that Obi-Wan wouldn’t hear, laying it all out. He didn’t mind, actually, and it actually solved the mystery of where Obi-Wan’s pay went. Qui-Gon had never seen him purchase any of the frivolous items most Padawans enjoyed, like beverages, cosmetics, or specialty training clothes. 

 

Done, he followed Obi-Wan to the living room and sat on the couch next to him. Obi-Wan was scowling at the ‘pad, a bad sign. Qui-Gon let him read on after he checked the time and saw they still had more than enough to prepare before the feast. After several minutes Obi-Wan sighed explosively, obviously frustrated, and set his datapad down with a sharp crack.

 

“There’s nothing for it,” Obi-Wan said, “We don’t have time to visit a shop and have something made. You’re going to have to go naked.”

 

There was silence in the room. Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon; Qui-Gon looked back at him, dumbfounded.

 

“There’s nothing?” Qui-Gon asked in a strained tone. Obi-Wan’s face was grim.

 

“Actually, there are a few small items you’ll have to wear,” Obi-Wan said, “but for all intents and purposes, no. You’ll be naked.”

 

“Small items?” Qui-Gon repeated, his voice steadily climbing in pitch. “What small items?”

 

“Cock ring, collar, and nipple jewelry,” Obi-Wan said. He was past upset now, and had moved on to wry practicality; unless Qui-Gon backed down from his challenge to the Senator, there were no other options. Qui-Gon leaned back slowly, and then let himself thud back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, don’t worry--the nipple jewelry doesn’t require piercing.”

 

“I’m going to get dressed,” Obi-Wan said after it became obvious that Qui-Gon was in shock and wouldn’t be speaking for a while. “You should get cleaned up in the ‘fresher, Master. I had planned to groom--thoroughly.”

 

Qui-Gon was still in a daze as he washed his genitals and anus more carefully than he possibly ever had before in his life, save perhaps the first time he thought he might have sex with another being. The thought of other beings seeing him nude and  _ dirty _ was even more abhorrent than the fact that they would be seeing him nude in the first place.

 

He washed efficiently, leaving nothing unsoaped, and then shut off the water cycler and turned on the air dry. Taming his mane afterwards was easy enough with the same product he’d been using for years, and soon he was sparkling and soft and still completely numb. Obi-Wan had helpfully slipped into the refresher and laid out the pieces Qui-Gon would be wearing, and Qui-Gon had a sudden moment of alarm when he realized that they must have originally been meant for Obi-Wan. That had never occurred to him before; the thought of his athletic young padawan parading around in just these was both shocking and appealing, and he had to think about something else for a moment or he’d never be able to get that cock ring on.

 

Obi-Wan had also left out a set of Qui-Gon’s most basic civilian clothing, assumedly for wearing on the transport to the feast, and a small overnight bag. Qui-Gon investigated the contents and felt another small wash of panic; it contained a set of Qui-GOn’s favorite lounging clothes and some toiletries. Did Obi-Wan expect them to be there all night? Qui-Gon hadn’t anticipated it. Perhaps Obi-Wan intended to draw things out in retribution for today?

 

That was a thought both unkind and unworthy, Qui-Gon chided himself as he dressed. Obi-Wan might be upset with his handling of the day’s business, but he wouldn’t force Qui-Gon to be humiliated any further than he had to be. And wasn’t that a thought? Obi-Wan had been right--it was not the honor Qui-Gon had tried to convince him of.

 

Qui-Gon had a bit of meditating to do tomorrow after he’d rested, apparently. He was a Master of the Jedi order, the highest rank most would attain. Body modesty and shame should be beneath him, after so many years.

 

He pulled his leggings down to his thighs and tugged the damn ring down to fit snugly at the base of his cock, then pulled his pants back up. It was imperative he keep his thoughts pure, he reminded himself; the cock ring would make it extremely difficult to quell an erection once attained, even with use of the Force. The nipple jewelry and collar he collected in one hand and the overnight bag in the other before he exited the refresher to hurry Obi-Wan along.

  
  


The ride on the air transport was excruciating. Already Qui-Gon felt nervous and exposed, as though his fellow passengers must know about the metal ring around his dick and the way he’d be dressed (undressed) all evening. Obi-Wan cast tiny, worried frowns at him before staring back out the window. 

 

The Lek-th Embassy was a sturdy dome building on the outside, seemingly boring, with solid curved walls and little artistry. Their world was a harsh one, and they’d learned to save their best work for indoors, where the high winds of the plains wouldn’t touch them. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stepped off the transport at the gate, and Qui-Gon punched in the code for them to enter. 

 

Just inside the door was a large room, obviously for dealing with Lek-than citizens, and a large door on the right that they headed towards. It opened to a long hallway, with a row of private meeting rooms on one side and a set of restrooms. They headed for the one nearest the far door and stepped inside for privacy.

 

“All right,” Obi-Wan said, quick and soft, “the jewelry is self-adhesive, and won’t dissolve until we apply the solvent they provided. I packed that in the overnight bag, which we’ll have to leave at the coat and weapons check. Here, strip down and give the jewelry here, I’ll make sure it’s on straight.”

 

Qui-Gon squirmed internally but saw no other way but to do as he was bidden, so he shucked off his clothing and folded it neatly, then watched Obi-Wan tuck it into their bag. Qui-Gon struggled not to fidget, standing naked in the cool air in a meeting room of a foreign embassy, and found himself failing.

 

“Not even a robe?” Qui-Gon asked plaintively, hoping against hope for a last-minute miracle, or some loophole that perhaps they’d both overlooked. Obi-Wan shook his head, sympathy radiating through their bond.

 

“I’m sorry, my Master,” he said, “we were instructed to follow Lek-than cultural mores for this as much as possible, and the outfit I selected was the most conservative. If it helps, you won’t be the only one there naked or near as.”

 

“That is not helpful, no,” Qui-Gon grumbled.

 

“Master,” Obi-Wan said suddenly. 

 

“What,” Qui-Gon asked.

 

“No, you’ll--you must refer to me as Master, this evening,” Obi-Wan explained. “Remember? The basic rules for the evening were that the submissive partner cannot speak unless spoken to, may not touch anyone else without the dominant giving permission, and must address the dominant with a term of respect. I suspect calling me Master will be easiest.”

 

Qui-Gon felt his lip curl in a snarl before he ironed it back down, and he let a calming breath build in his chest before allowing it to flow back out, taking his irritation with it. In theory.

 

“Obi-Wan,” he said. Obi-Wan shook his head.

 

“Qui-Gon, you know what I must do if you do not,” Obi-Wan said. 

 

“Corporal punishment might be less humiliating!” Qui-Gon snapped. Obi-Wan looked away, his jaw set mulishly. 

 

“I don’t want to hit you,” Obi-Wan ground out. “Please. Bear the indignity so that I do not have to do you harm, minor though it may be.”

 

_ Please trust me to take care of this for you, _ Qui-Gon heard float along their training bond, and he was taken aback; despite their closeness and their romantic relationship, telepathy had never been a talent they’d gained. A sense of love, a desperate need to do this for Qui-Gon, and sorrow that Qui-Gon was going through something so personally embarrassing accompanied the words, and Qui-Gon sighed as his bitterness evaporated.

 

“Yes, Master,” Qui-Gon said quietly, and found himself being embraced. He put his arms around Obi-Wan gently, stroking up and down his beloved Padawan’s back, and let go when Obi-Wan did.

 

“Let’s be off, then--oh, the collar,” Obi-Wan snapped his finger as he remembered. “Switching roles so suddenly has me forgetting details. Remember you’re doing this for me, love, and that however I have to act isn’t how I necessarily feel.”

 

“The same goes for me,” Qui-Gon muttered as Obi-Wan fastened the leather and silver collar about Qui-Gon’s neck with care. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and tapped Qui-Gon’s cheek playfully before leaning up to kiss it. They left the room with Qui-Gon following the prescribed three steps behind Obi-Wan and were welcomed into the Lek-than feasting chamber.

 

The feasting chamber was much like any banquet hall, except unlike most Republic worlds inhabited by humanoids, the table was set very low to the ground and chairs were replaced with large, comfortable round pillows. Lek-thanas were shorter on average than a stock human, so that Obi-Wan, being from a subspecies of human that tended to the small side, was comfortable. Qui-Gon, from his low-gravity world that encouraged giants, was very much not--or wouldn’t have been, had he been seated. He, like all the other submissive partners at the table, was given a soft pillow to kneel upon. The Lek-than submissives were seated so that they could just see over the edge of the table, allowing them to watch the negotiations, but even kneeling to sit on his knees Qui-Gon was as tall as the seated dominant Lek-thanas.

 

It was a curious thing, to be the junior partner. He’d felt it earlier, at the Senate building, but here it was taken to new heights. Only a few other less-well-trained submissives glanced at him, and while all of the dominants watched him with interest, Qui-Gon was aware that it was the worst faux-pas to touch another’s submissive. He was safe here under Obi-Wan’s hands.

 

His nakedness still bothered him, but seeing the other submissive partners so scantily dressed--and indeed, several others who was as nude as he was--helped somehow. Commonality made his nudity more acceptable. Qui-Gon found himself sinking into the Moment as Obi-Wan was greeted by the Lek-than liason while Qui-Gon had to do nothing but stand there obediently.

 

“Come, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan finally said off-handedly and gestured for him to follow. Qui-Gon did so, and they were led to a seat of honor near the embassy head.

 

“There,” Obi-Wan said, snapping and pointing at the floor cushion as though he ordered Jedi Masters around all day and was bored of it. Qui-Gon bowed and knelt, trying to infuse some grace to his motions. The other submissives were slender, small people, and a solid mix of male and female or ungendered beings. There were two other human submissives, surprisingly, and they seemed very well trained, attending to their dominants quickly and without effort.

 

Ah, that reminded him--he waited until Obi-Wan was seated and pushed his glass towards Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon raised himself up to take the pitcher of wine from the table and poured carefully. 

 

He had just set the pitcher back down and retracted his arm when a swat to the rear startled him into jerking back to look at Obi-Wan, who was laughing.

 

“I swear, you can try and teach an old dog new tricks, but it doesn’t always take,” Obi-Wan joked, and the embassy head laughed with him. “He does try though, sweet thing. One day he’ll be up to standard.”

 

“Ah, you’re such a patient master,” the embassy head cooed. “He’s lucky. When I was starting out in politics I had a very harsh man as my dominant--he allowed no mistakes in public, or I was paddled rather soundly.”

 

“Maybe I should take that route,” Obi-Wan replied thoughtfully. “Look how well you turned out, after all!” They laughed together again and Qui-Gon felt confused and irritated. What had he done wrong? Ignoring his stinging backside he concentrated on watching the other submissives pour, and finally noticed his error--he had set the pitcher against the lip of the glass, where the others all poured from a short height. Qui-Gon resolved not to make the same mistake again, and when Obi-Wan’s glass needed refilling, he did not.

 

“Beautifully done,” Obi-Wan praised, stroking Qui-Gon’s hair, and Qui-Gon found himself smiling before he realized. He mentally shook himself, as a canid sheds water after a swim, and went back to watching the other submissives for clues.

 

Appetizers were served, and Qui-Gon watched for but a moment before acting. Imitating the others, he selected the best bites from the plate and placed them in Obi-Wan’s mouth. He knelt back down in between bites so as not to make Obi-Wan feel hurried or himself seem impatient. It was the correct thing to do, as Obi-Wan favored him with a kiss to his forehead, and Qui-Gon felt that strange internal squirming again. He felt oddly peaceful, with nothing to focus on but making his movements graceful and communicating his servitude as effectively as possible.

 

He shoved the feeling aside and continued feeding Obi-Wan like the Lek-thanas around them.

 

After about half the plate was gone, Obi-Wan stayed Qui-Gon’s motion to kneel up again with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Come, Qui-Gon. You’ve done well so far,” Obi-Wan said, and patted his lap. Bewildered, Qui-Gon glanced around and received a tug on his nipple for the trouble, but he’d seen enough. The other submissives were being brought to their master’s laps to be fed, and he carefully slid himself onto Obi-Wan’s lap.

 

“Alright, maybe we will modify custom this once,” Obi-Wan laughed, and the table laughed with him. Qui-Gon was far too tall to sit in Obi-Wan’s lap comfortably. What’s more, it put all of him in viewing range, and he noted with confusion that his cock had plumped up to a partial erection. “Slide down between my knees, Qui. There’s a good man. Here, turn around now.”

 

Obi-Wan manhandled Qui-Gon to kneel between Obi-Wan’s knees, with his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist. He fed Qui-Gon the rest of the plate as he stroked his hair, the motion absent and fond. As he ate, Qui-Gon listened to Obi-Wan wrangle another year’s worth of funding for the Temple kitchens with pride; yes, his Obi-Wan was going to be the greatest of Jedi diplomats. 

 

Once the plate was empty another came in its place, the first course. At Obi-Wan’s tap to his shoulder, Qui-Gon slid out from between Obi-Wan’s thighs and knelt back down in place, sighing as he gave up the easy warmth. They repeated this feeding ritual, and Qui-Gon grew comfortable with it, sliding deeper down into the soft lassitude.

 

Obi-Wan, for his part, coddled him, ordered him around, flicked his nipple jewelry when he wasn’t paying attention and caught his collar and gently tugged when he wanted to emphasize a point. Between each course he allowed Qui-Gon to snuggle back down into his lap, and Obi-Wan stroked his hair away from his neck in order to put a possessive hand to the skin there.

 

Distantly, Qui-Gon noted that with each bit of praise from Obi-Wan or each action performed well he felt a surge of arousal. He was fairly certain that if he looked down he would be completely erect now, and oddly it didn’t bother him. As long as it didn’t bother Obi-Wan, he thought with a frown. Did it? He risked a glance up at Obi-Wan but couldn’t decide. 

 

Qui-Gon had a sudden, burning need to know if Obi-Wan would like him like this, if he wanted Qui-Gon to be erect. If he wanted Qui-Gon sexually. Because Qui-Gon wanted Obi-Wan; he always wanted Obi-Wan, and he couldn’t face it if he embarrassed his beloved by being less than perfect for him now.

 

His mental distress caught Obi-Wan’s attention, and the young man frowned down at Qui-Gon in concern. He tipped his head to the side, eyes half-closed as he worked to discern what he felt through the Living Force, and then they opened again with a gleam. Obi-Wan’s gaze held Qui-Gon’s for a moment, ensuring he was watching, and then slowly slid all the way down to Qui-Gon’s rampant erection--and then, purposefully, Obi-Wan licked his lips and looked back at Qui-Gon.

 

Oh, oh yes, Obi-Wan wanted him like this. And, how delightful--other submissives around the table also seemed aroused, and in some cases their dominants had begun to fondle them. Obi-Wan’s lips curled in a smile as he reached over to cup Qui-Gon’s cheek.

 

“I would eat you alive, were we alone,” Obi-Wan said, hot breath in Qui-Gon’s ear, “but you are mine, and I will not share. Mine.”

 

Qui-Gon shivered, feeling his cock twitch and a slow leak of precum drip down onto his thighs. Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened and he casually leaned over to touch his finger to the tip of Qui-Gon’s erection. He licked his finger as he sat back up, closing his eyes, and then sighed in satisfaction.

 

“I see why you put so much time into training him,” the embassy head said, “he’s a natural, isn’t he?” Obi-Wan laughed, shaking his head, and smiled. 

 

“It was a rather recent discovery,” Obi-Wan replied. Qui-Gon had to work hard not to guffaw at that; he felt almost drunk, and Obi-Wan was so hilarious, it was so hard to maintain his proper facade. The last course was served, and Qui-Gon once again fed his master before sliding between his thighs for his portion.

 

This time, his position was less comfortable than before, but it was infinitely improved by Obi-Wan’s cock pressing against Qui-Gon’s chest. Qui-Gon smothered a small laugh in Obi-Wan’s tunics and then rubbed his face into Obi-Wan’s stomach, delighted with the sensation.

 

“Careful, or you’ll make a mess,” Obi-Wan warned him. Qui-Gon paused, facing the long line of Lek-thanas at the feast, and noticed something. The other dominant/submissive pairs were all touching intimately, some using their mouths or hands to service their partners. Qui-Gon suddenly burned with a deep-seated desire to do the same.

 

“I will make sure there is not, my Master,” Qui-Gon said when he got his voice working again. Speech was like forcing a large inflatable ball to the bottom of a swimming pool; incredibly difficult, with fits and starts that had to be wrestled. He nuzzled a little further down Obi-Wan’s belly, hoping the action would suffice to make the offer.

 

“Then stop that,” Obi-Wan muttered, but Qui-Gon only looked up at him before gently, slowly, taking Obi-Wan’s erection through his clothes and mouthing at it. Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide, and then looked intently at Qui-Gon.

 

“If you’re sure,” Obi-Wan finally said, and Qui-Gon nodded vigorously. Obi-Wan leaned down to press a kiss to Qui-Gon’s cheek and murmured, “You don’t have to. The ambassador said it was no offense if we did not.”

 

“Please,” Qui-Gon whispered, and Obi-Wan sat back up. He grasped Qui-Gon’s head and tilted it up to look at him once more before he nodded and caressed Qui-Gon’s cheek with a thumb. Then Obi-Wan released him, and Qui-Gon hummed happily and nuzzled Obi-Wan’s hardness through his pants.

 

Obi-Wan continued stroking Qui-Gon’s head lovingly, occasionally gripping his hair firmly and stopping him, just to let him continue a moment later. Qui-Gon nosed the waistband of his leggings down as far as they’d go and then made a small, distressed noise when they’d go no further.

 

“Here, darling, let me help,” Obi-Wan soothed, and unbuttoned the leggings for him, shifting them down his hips in the back so that Qui-Gon could work unimpeded. Qui-Gon was beyond words now, but made a soft, happy sound and took the edge of the fabric in his teeth. He tugged it down further, careful of Obi-Wan’s pubic hair and skin, then pulled it out and away to bring it over Obi-Wan’s erection. Obi-Wan sucked in a steadying breath as Qui-Gon gently kissed and lipped at Obi-Wan’s length, damp lips over damp skin, and he had to hold in a groan when Qui-Gon finally closed his mouth over the tip.

 

Other, similar sounds were echoing around them now, and Qui-Gon was pleased and content that he had Obi-Wan’s full attention now. He suckled strongly first, then used his tongue more, remembering all the tricks that Obi-Wan liked best. Obi-Wan was slouched back on the cushion now, abs shaking as he tried to give Qui-Gon room and keep himself upright. Qui-Gon distantly noticed that someone was speaking to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan’s attention wavered; Qui-Gon increased his pace and the strength of his movements to try and recapture it, and succeeded as Obi-Wan clutched at his hair.

 

“Qui-Gon, come here--no, let go for a moment!” Obi-Wan snapped, and Qui-Gon reluctantly let Obi-Wan’s dick fall from his mouth. He looked up at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan sighed.

 

“I’m not making you stop, quit looking so hurt,” Obi-Wan ordered in a wry tone of voice. “I’m turning around so I can lean against the table. You can go back to what you were doing as soon as I’m comfortable again. Understand?”

 

Qui-Gon nodded, trying not to sulk. Obi-Wan leaned down and gently popped the head of his cock with his hand, and Qui-Gon cried out at the sensation: near-pain, a startling amount of pleasure, and shock at the suddenness of it.

 

“Answer me,” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon realized what he’d done wrong.

 

“Yes, Master,” he managed to croak, and Obi-Wan hummed his approval and ran gentle fingers over the swollen head of Qui-Gon’s erection, amplifying the pounding ache Qui-Gon hadn’t realized was there. 

 

“Ah!” Qui-Gon gasped, a choked-off groan catching in his throat. “Oh, oh.” Obi-Wan grinned wickedly, his face near Qui-Gon’s, and then nudged Qui-Gon to turn with him. Once Obi-Wan was leaning back against the table, wine safely out of the way, Qui-Gon crowded back in again and reverently kissed all the skin he could reach. 

 

“There you are, here--this is what you want, isn’t it,” Obi-Wan cooed, and pulled Qui-Gon’s head down to his erection. Qui-Gon couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him as he engulfed Obi-Wan’s cock once more; it was what he wanted most in the world, the best way to please his Obi-Wan and make him feel good. Oh, it was perfect--Qui-Gon reveled in the sounds Obi-Wan was making, and the way his cock would throb in his mouth, and the way Obi-Wan gripped his hair or the back of his neck to direct him faster or slower. 

 

Qui-Gon felt pressure building in his groin, his pulse beating hard in his chest and his cock, and realized he might come. He needed to say something, to let Obi-Wan know, to ask if that was allowed, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop what he was doing. Obi-Wan slid a hand around to cup Qui-Gon’s cheek, then down to under his chin, feeling Qui-Gon’s muscles work.

 

Obi-Wan groaned at the feeling and studied Qui-Gon with an avid gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between Qui-Gon’s mouth, ass, bound cock, and face. He grinned, sweet and sharp, obviously catching wind of something in the Force.

 

“Mm, go ahead, love,” Obi-Wan said lazily. “You may come, as long as you don’t need to use your hands.” Qui-Gon moaned, a whimper in the back of his throat building to a wail he tried to work through. Qui-Gon came, fucking his mouth down onto Obi-Wan’s cock through the sound that wanted to escape, and shot semen all over the side of the cushion Obi-Wan was seated on. 

 

Obi-Wan stroked his head through it all, and when Qui-Gon choked Obi-Wan pulled him off by his hair.  Qui-Gon heaved in breath with his head laid on Obi-Wan’s thigh and continued to helplessly lip and kiss Obi-Wan’s dick as he shook and came down from the high of his orgasm.

 

“Sssh, ssh,” Obi-Wan said softly as he petted him. “You did so well, Qui-Gon. I loved seeing you come like that, beautiful man. You did wonderfully, relax.” Qui-Gon whined when Obi-Wan tucked his dick back into his trousers but was unable to move to stop him. Obi-Wan continued to hush him and pet him along his hair, his neck and shoulders, his back, until Qui-Gon’s shaking had ceased. 

 

The rest of the evening was a dreamy blur. Everything was soft and muffled, and Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was talking to the Lek-thanas seated around them, but couldn’t bring himself to care while Obi-Wan’s hand still moved warm and loving against his skin. He dozed, kneeling between Obi-Wan’s legs with his head on Obi-Wan’s lap, and after a while realized Obi-Wan was making his goodbyes. The Lek-than ambassador seemed particularly impressed with something, and Obi-Wan returned the warm compliments with a gracious air. 

 

Obi-Wan finally shifted, and Qui-Gon made himself heave his old bones up so that Obi-Wan could stand. He was so, so tired now, and felt he could sleep a week, but his Obi-Wan was urging him to stand and so he obeyed. They walked back to the coat and weapons check and retrieved their bag, with Qui-Gon leaning heavily against his beloved, and then Obi-Wan led them back to the room they’d changed in before.

 

Qui-Gon was persuaded to remove his accoutrements, and was amused to see he was not flaccid enough to take the cock ring off without difficulty. Obi-Wan chuckled at him, sharing his amusement, and helped him dress in his favorite soft clothing, which was unbearably perfect. Qui-Gon sighed happily and rubbed his chin against the top of Obi-Wan’s head, letting his eyes droop shut.

 

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, “Let’s get you home, shall we? Then we can go settle down on your bed and cuddle up to each other all night.” That sounded amazing to Qui-Gon, so he smiled and nodded and they went outside to wait for the air taxi.

 

Obi-Wan kept his hands on Qui-Gon the entire ride home, and the distant lights and sound of the air car began to pull Qui-Gon back up slowly from the depth he’d sunk down to. He felt himself wake bit by bit, though the exhaustion remained. By the time they had returned to the Temple he felt more himself than he had all night, and as they walked the halls back to their apartment he began to recall with horror everything he’d done.

 

He had fellated Obi-Wan, his Padawan, in public, in front of an ambassador to a planet that supplied much of the Temple’s food budget. Naked. And orgasmed from it, without being touched.

 

Obi-Wan sensed his growing shame perhaps, squeezing his hand.

 

“Stow it until we’re home, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan murmured. “We can discuss it in private, but it does no good to stew on it until then.”

 

His apprentice was wise, sometimes. Qui-Gon wished he’d take his own advice more often; Obi-Wan could be an anxious young man. Nevertheless, he tried his best to follow the suggestion and let slip a sigh of relief when the door to their quarters finally closed behind them.

 

“There, hush,” Obi-Wan said immediately, turning to Qui-Gon and taking his cloak from him. “Come sit on the sofa, please. You need touch, warmth, and water right now.”

 

Qui-Gon obeyed, unsure what else he could do, and Obi-Wan joined him short minutes later with hot mugs of tea and a small plate of sweet biscuits.

 

“You’re embarrassed,” Obi-Wan said after they’d settled against each other, and Qui-Gon snorted.

 

“Oh? Really? I can’t imagine why that might be,” he snarled. Obi-Wan barked a single laugh and then made a frustrated noise.

 

“I’m assuming that’s not something you knew about yourself, then,” Obi-Wan asked. Qui-Gon shook his head, eyes unfocused as he stared at his tea. The warmth was lovely against his hands, and he realized he had been chilled.

 

“I can’t believe I did that,” Qui-Gon said after a while. Obi-Wan waited for him to continue. “I’m not an exhibitionist.”

 

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I don’t imagine you were thinking about anyone else much, though. You were pretty far into subspace.”

 

“I was what?” Qui-Gon asked, baffled, and then the words sank in. “That--that’s what that means? I’ve heard about it before, but never--” 

 

“That’s what that means,” Obi-Wan agreed with a smile. “I was in my own head quite a ways too, if it makes you feel better. The Lek-than delegation was very impressed.”

 

“They--what?” Qui-Gon asked, beginning to feel like a corrupted bit of programming. 

 

“The guide they prepared for visiting ambassadors and politicians was meant to encourage a very...minimal amount of cultural participation,” Obi-Wan explained. “Basically, the least a visitor could do without disrupting their festivities. We participated far more fully than other Jedi or politicians have in the past, and the Lek-thanas were very pleased with us for it.”

 

“So…” Qui-Gon trailed off.

 

“So we gained half again our usual budget,” Obi-Wan said, his grin stretching into ‘shit-eating’ territory. Qui-Gon sat, stunned, and then shook his head, trying to get the thought to process.

 

“You did well,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Especially since it was your first time doing something like that. You did very well.”

 

Something about the way that was phrased snagged Qui-Gon’s attention. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Obi-Wan, appraising.

 

“My first time, but not yours,” he said, figuring it out. Obi-Wan’s grin was now sheepish.

 

“Correct,” Obi-Wan said. “It would have been my first time in a submissive role, which is why I had to practice so much--it’s really not in me at all, unlike you, apparently, who is a natural.”

 

“So you…”

 

“I’m usually a dominant, when I play these games,” Obi-Wan agreed. He pulled Qui-Gon up a little closer against him and nabbed a biscuit off the plate, handing it to Qui-Gon. “And one of a dominant’s most important duties is aftercare. Eat, you need some sugar.” 

 

Qui-Gon munched, thinking, and found he was quite enjoying the extra attention and care Obi-Wan was giving him. He thought back on the evening without the shame of a failed mission now, though the thought of a table full of beings seeing him orgasm was still a bit embarrassing. 

 

“This is something you enjoy doing, then?” he asked, just to be sure. Obi-Wan nodded. “But you haven’t spoken of it to me before.”

 

“I’d never seen any sign that you would enjoy it,” Obi-Wan explained apologetically. “I didn’t want to bring it up until we’d been together a while and were more confident in each other as lovers.”

 

“But this is something you’d do again, given the choice?” Qui-Gon pressed. Obi-Wan’s face began to lighten, hope brightening his eyes, and he nodded vigorously.

  
“Then please,” Qui-Gon said, giving him his own sheepish grin. “Because publicity aside, that was fantastic.”


End file.
